Callum shrugged out of his custom black tuxedo and tossed it over the armchair with all the reverence of a man throwing away a napkin. He was asleep before I had even finished brushing my teeth in the bathroom.
The next morning, our suitcases were already packed and waiting by the front door. We were scheduled to leave for San Jose, Costa Rica, that afternoon.
I had woken up feeling exhausted but unbelievably happy. Quietly, I slipped out of bed and started organizing our bags while Callum continued sleeping peacefully.
I decided to fold his tuxedo into its garment bag so it could be taken to the dry cleaner before we headed to the airport. That was my entire plan, but because I had once lost a rental car key at a friend’s wedding, I had developed a strict habit of checking every pocket before sending formal clothes away.
“Pockets first,” I muttered to myself under my breath.
The outer breast pocket was completely empty. The trouser pockets contained only a mint and a crumpled drink ticket from the bar.
Then I checked the inner breast pocket where formal items were usually kept. I expected to touch our handwritten vow books or maybe a plastic hotel key card.
